(Thofe bated, that inherit but the fall
Of the last monarchy;) fee, that you come
Not to woo honour, but to wed it; when
The braveft queftant shrinks, find what you feek,
That fame may cry you loud: I fay, farewel.

2 Lord. Health at your bidding ferve your Majefty! King. Thofe girls of Italy, take heed of them; They fay, our French lack language to deny, If they demand: beware of being captives,

Before you

ferve.

Both. Our hearts receive your warnings.
King. Farewel.

Come hither to me. [To Attendants."

[Exit.

1 Lord. Oh, my fweet Lord, that you will stay be

hind us!

Par. 'Tis not his fault; the fpark

2 Lord. Oh, 'tis brave wars.

Par. Moft admirable; I have feen thofe wars.
Ber. I am commanded here, and kept a coil with,
Too young, and the next year, and 'tis too early.-

Par. An thy mind ftand to it, boy, fteal away. bravely.

Ber. Shall I ftay here the forehorse to a mock, Creeking my shoes on the plain masonry,

'Till honour be bought up, and no fword worn But one to dance with? by heav'n, I'll steal away. 1 Lord. There's honour in the theft.

Par. Commit it, Count..

2 Lord. I am your acceffary, and fo farewel. Ber. I grow to you, and our parting is a tortur'd body.

1 Lord. Farewel, Captain.

Pope by a donation in the times of its duration, be faid to do foi This being premised, now to the fenfe. The King fays, higher Italy; giving it the rank of preference to France; but he corrects himself and fays, I except those from that precedency, who only inherit the fall of the last monarchy; as all the little petty ftates; for instance, Florence to whom these voluntiers were going, As if he had faid, I gave the place of honour to the Emperor and the Pope, but not to the free ftates. All here is clear; and 'tis exactly Shakespeare's manner, who lov'd to fhew his reading on fuch oecafions. Mr. Warburton. VOL. III. 2 Lord.

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2 Lord. Sweet Monfieur Parolles !

Par. Noble heroes, my fword and yours are kin good fparks and luftrous. A word, good metals. (11) You fhall find in the regiment of the Spinii, one Captain Spurio with his cicatrice, an emblem of war, here on his finifter cheek; it was this very fword entrench'd it; fay to him, I live, and obferve his reports of me.

1 Lord. We fhall, noble Captain.

Par. Mars doat on you for his novices! what will ye do?

Ber. Stay; the King[Exeunt Lords: Par. Ufe a moft fpacious ceremony to the noble Lords, you have reftrain'd yourself within the lift of too cold an adieu; be more expreffive to them, for they wear themselves in the cap of the time; there, do mufter true gate, eat, fpeak, and move under the influence of the moft receiv'd ftar; and tho' the devil lead the measure, fuch are to be followed: after them, and take a more dilated farewel.

Ber. And I will do fo.

Par. Worthy fellows, and like to prove moft finewy fword-men. [Exeunt.

Enter the King, and Lafen.

Laf. Pardon, my Lord, for me and for my tidings. King. I'll fee thee to ftand up..

(11) You fball find in the regiment of the Spinii one Captain Spurio, bis cicatrice, with an emblem of war bere on bis finifter cheek ;] It is furprizing, none of the editors could fee that a flight tranfpofition was abfolutely neceffary here, when there is not common fenfe in the paffage, as it ftands without fuch tranfpofition. Parolles only means, 66 you fhall find one Captain Spurio in the camp with a fear on his left cheek, a mark of war that my fword gave him." Our poet has employ'd this word, to fignify fcar, in other of his plays: So, before, in As you like it ;

lean but upon a rush, The cicatrice and capable impreffure Thy palm fome moment keeps:

And in Hamlet;

Since yet thy cicatrice looks raw and red

1

Laf. Then here's a man ftands, that hath bought his

pardon.

I would, you had kneel'd, my Lord, to ask me mercy
And that at my bidding you could fo ftand up.

King. I would, I had; fo I had broke thy pate,
And afk'd thee mercy for't.

Laf. Goodfaith, across:-but, my good Lord, 'tis thus ;
Will you be cur'd of your infirmity?

King. No.

Laf O, will you eat no grapes, my royal fox?
Yes, but you will, my noble grapes; an if

My royal fox could reach them; (12) I have seen a med’cing
That's able to breathe life into a stone;

Quicken a rock, and make you dance canary

With sprightly fire and motion; whofe fimple touch
Is powerful to araife King Pepin, nay,

To give great Charlemain a pen in's hand,
And write to her a love-line.

King. What her is this?

Laf. Why, Doctor-fhe: my Lord, there's one arriv'd,
If you will fee her: now, by my faith and honour,
If feriously I may convey my thoughts

In this my light deliverance, I have spoke
With one, that in her fex, her years, profeffion,
Wifdem and conftancy, hath amaz'd me more
Than I dare blame my weakness: will you fee her,
For that is her demand, and know her business?
That done, laugh well at me.

King. Now, good Lafeu,

Bring in the admiration, that we with thee
May spend our wonder too, or take off thine,
By wond'ring how thou took'ft it.

Laf. Nay, I'll fit you,

And not be all day neither.

[Exit Lafeu!

(12) I have seen a Medecine,] Lafeu does not mean that he has feen a remedy, but a person bringing fuch remedy. I therefore imagine, our author ufed the French word, medecin, i, e, a Phyfician; this agrees with what he fubjoins immediately in reply to the King. Why, Doctor-She ;-and-write to her a love-live,

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King

King. Thus he his special nothing ever prologues,
Laf. [Returns] Nay, come your ways.

Bringing in Helena.

King. This hafte hath wings, indeed.
Laf. Nay, come your ways,

This is his Majefty, fay your mind to him;
A traitor you do look like; but such traitors
His Majefty feldom fears; I'm Crefid's uncle,
That dare leave two together; fare you well.

[Exit.

King. Now, fair one, do's your business follow us è Hel. Ay, my good Lord.

Gerard de Narbon was my father,

In what he did profefs, well found.

King. I knew him.

Hel. The rather will I fpare my praife towards him Knowing him, is enough: on's bed of death

Many receipts he gave me, chiefly one,
Which as the deareft iffue of his practice,
And of his old experience th' only darling,
He bade me store up, as a triple eye,

Safer than mine own two: more dear I have fo
And hearing your high Majefty is touch'd
With that malignant caufe, wherein the honour
Of my dear father's gift ftands chief in power,
I come to tender it, and my appliance,
With all bound humbleness.

King. We thank you, maiden;
But may not be fo credulous of cure,
When our most learned doctors leave us; and
The congregated college have concluded,
That labouring art can never ranfom nature
From her unaidable eftate: we must not
So fuftain our judgment, or corrupt our hope,
To proftitute our paft-cure malady
To empericks; or to diffèver fo

Our great felf and our credit, to esteem

A fenfelefs help, when help paft sense we deem.
Hel. My duty then fhall pay me for my pains;
I will no more enforce mine office on you;

Humbly

Humbly intreating from your royal thoughts
A modeft one to bear me back again.

King. I cannot give thee lefs, to be call'd grateful;
Thou thought'ft to help me, and fuch thanks I give,
As one near death to those that with him live;
But what at full I know, thou know'ft no part;:
I knowing all my peril, thou no art.

Hel. What I can do, can do no hurt to try,
Since you fet up your reft 'gainft remedy:
He that of greatest works is finisher,
Oft does them by the weakest minister:

So holy writ in babes hath judgment shown,

When judges have been babes; great floods have flown,
From fimple fources; and great seas have dry'd,

When mir'cles have by th' greatest been deny'd..
Oft expectation fails, and most oft there

Where moft it promifes: and oft it hits
Where hope is coldeft, and defpair moft fits..

King. I must not hear thee; fare thee well, kind maid;
Thy pains, not us'd, muft by thyself be paid:
Proffers, not took, reap thanks for their reward.
Hel. Infpired merit fo by breath is barr'd :
It is not fo with him that all things knows,
As 'tis with us, that square our guefs by shows:
But most it is prefumption in us, when
The help of heav'n we count the act of men.
Dear Sir, to my endeavours give confent,
Of heav'n, not me, make an experiment.
I am not not an impoftor, that proclaim
Myfelf against the level of mine aim,

But know I think, and think I know moft fure,
My art is not paft power, nor you past cure.
King. Art thou fo confident? within what space
Hop'st thou my cure?

Hel. The greatest grace lending grace,
Ere twice the horses of the fun shall bring
Their fiery torcher his diurnal ring;
Ere twice in murk and occidental damp
Moift Hesperus hath quench'd his fleepy lamp;
Or four and twenty times the pilot's glass

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